


A Not-So-Quiet Morning

by bluesatinsashes



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:04:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19284931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesatinsashes/pseuds/bluesatinsashes
Summary: "It wasn’t the first time he was roused out of a peaceful sleep by someone knocking on the Inquisitor’s door dreadfully early in the morning. It certainly wasn’t going to be the last."A runner comes to fetch the Inquisitor early in the morning. Dorian isn't happy about it.





	A Not-So-Quiet Morning

**Author's Note:**

> I did not intend for this to be 2,000 words. It just kind of happened.

A loud knocking penetrated the calm comfortably laid over the Inquisitor’s quarters. The obnoxious sound awakened Dorian immediately, as it unfortunately always did. It wasn’t the first time he was roused out of a peaceful sleep by someone knocking on the Inquisitor’s door dreadfully early in the morning. It certainly wasn’t going to be the last.

“Inquisitor, I have an urgent message for you,” a woman’s voice called through the door leading up the final stairway. One of Leliana’s runners again, no doubt. “Inquisitor?”

Dorian shifted from the warm imprint in the sheets left by his body over the night, trying to rouse himself out of a sleep-filled haze. He turned to his other side to face toward Demetri’s side of the bed and blindly reached out, patting down along the covers with his hand until he finally found a lump that was no doubt the Inquisitor in question.

“Inquisitor, are you in there?” the runner called up the stairs, followed by another series of sharp raps against the wooden door.

When the lump remained still, Dorian bit back a curse as he lifted himself off his pillow, rubbing at his eyes until they were clear enough to see his Demetri lying on his back, snoring and still dead asleep despite the continuation of knocking downstairs.

_Impossible man._

“Inquisitor Trevelyan, I have something important for your attention,” the runner called up again meekly, her voice beginning to sound desperate for a reply, knowing she would eventually have to barge in herself without an answer. And yet the knocking continued.

“Damn runners,” Dorian muttered under his breath as he collapsed back onto the bed, shifting closer to Demetri and began to prod weakly at him. This was the third time that week he’d been awakened by runners delivering “urgent” messages to the Inquisitor, all at the crack of dawn it seemed. Usually Demetri would rouse at the first round of knocking, fully awake in an instant to wrap a robe around himself and walk down the stairs to meet the runner halfway to speak face-to-face with whomever Leliana sent that time. Dorian hated the shouting back and forth behind the closed door. Especially at such an ungodly hour when he could be sleeping.

However, this time it seemed his amatus was sleeping deeper than he usually did. He didn’t even so much as twitch at the combination of the pounding at the door and Dorian poking lazily at his side. Demetri was usually a light sleeper, especially after the abrupt attack on Haven. He slept as if he was prepared for anything to occur overnight - assassination attempts, surprise assaults on Skyhold, the end of the world even, Demetri made sure he was ready for any surprise. They had been at Skyhold nearly a year now without any such thing happening - thank the _Maker_ \- but Demetri still felt the need to be composed for any kind of bump in the night. So, therefore, he was usually a light sleeper.

Except for this morning, evidently.

“‘Metri, amatus, wake up,” Dorian mumbled half into the sheet, prodding the still-dead Inquisitor with his hand, using more force for every damn second Demetri remained asleep. “Maker, Demetri, get _up_."

With a low groan that rumbled against Dorian’s hand, the Inquisitor was finally resurrected back to consciousness. He brought a hand to his eyes and wiped at them blearily as he tried to figure out why Dorian was shaking him so violently and where that _noise_ was coming from.

“Tell her to stop that blasted _knocking_ ,” Dorian whined not a moment later, lifting the hideous Free Marcher covers over his head in an attempt to at least muffle the clamorous rapping against the door. Sunlight began to stream in through the curtains, illuminating the room in a gentle glow to distract from the not-so-gentle knocking.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan, are you there? I can come up,” the runner offered. Dorian didn’t understand how her knuckles had the ability to continue knocking after all this time, her poor hands were probably bloody at this point.

“Yes, I’m here. What is it?” Demetri called down to her in a thick voice, wincing to himself when he remembered Dorian under the covers, probably glaring daggers at him below the sheets for yelling across the room this early. Perhaps he would forgive him, now that the knocking finally ceased.

“Sister Nightingale and Commander Cullen need to speak with you in the war room. The Spymaster wanted me to tell you that an urgent message from Knight-Captain Rylen came in this morning regarding darkspawn and it needs your attention immediately,” the runner shouted up, her voice clearer without the door in the way.

 _Immediately my ass_ , Demetri thought to himself as he ran a hand down his face, still feeling as if he was half-asleep. “Tell them I’ll be down in ten minutes,” he told the runner anyway, finding no point to argue against someone who was only following orders, orders given by Leliana especially.

“Understood, Inquisitor Trevelyan.” And with a stuttered apology about knocking this early, the runner hastily closed the door and made her way back down the stairs. Her boots echoed against the steps as she walked down the steps, growing quieter and quieter until Dorian could no longer hear them with the cover still over his head. He sighed with relief at the silence. _Finally_.

It was only a moment before Demetri ducked below the cover as well, pressing his lips against the crown of Dorian’s head as he shifted lower to be at eye-level with his paramour, remaining under the sheets.

“Hey you,” Demetri murmured as he snuggled closer to Dorian, wrapping his arms around him and tangling their legs together in the process. The man was always so clingy in the morning. “She’s gone now, you don’t have to hide anymore,” Demetri teased, a crooked grin playing on his lips as he continued to kiss along Dorian’s hairline.

Dorian hummed his acknowledgement, pressing his face into the crook of Demetri’s very warm neck as he breathed in the scent of him. He pulled Demetri impossibly closer, so close that their chests’ were firmly pressed together. Dorian could feel every intake of breath that Demetri took, every exhale blowing out into Dorian’s hair as Demetri nuzzled against him. The combination of that with the soft thumping of his amatus’ heartbeat against his own was so peaceful, it was as if he could just fall back asleep right here…

“Ugh, I don’t want to go to this meeting,” Demetri mumbled a few moments later, breaking Dorian out of his few seconds long doze. “Wanna stay here.”

“I’m willing to face Leliana’s wrath when she eventually comes to find you if you are, amatus,” Dorian offered, speaking against Demetri’s collarbone.

The Inquisitor shuddered. “Maker, _no_. Not after last time we tried that,” he said, his once-lax body stiffening at the memories.

Dorian made a show of sighing dramatically. “Ah, I suppose if you must go, then you must.”

He untangled himself from Demetri, turning over on his back and began to pull the cover back down. He greedily breathed in a lungful of fresh air; it was getting rather stuffy under there. Dorian sat up and raised his arms over his head, stretching his whole body out to rid himself of the sleepy feeling that still persisted over his body. He wasn’t used to waking up this early in the morning. Most days while they were staying at Skyhold, Demetri would wake up early, alone if there were no runners to wake the both of them up first. The Inquisitor would then carefully move off the bed as to not wake Dorian, and go through the quick process of putting on his clothes and shaving in the washroom. After his ritual was finished, he would make his way down the stairs, leaving Dorian to wake hours later.

Dorian held his stretched position for a few more seconds before releasing, exhaling the breath that he’d been holding. He glanced over to the left side of the bed to find Demetri still lying on his side, watching Dorian intently.

Dorian felt his throat constrict. Still after all this time he felt speechless at the sight of the man staring at him so attentively. The Inquisitor was a remarkably beautiful man, stunning in every way. The golden light peeking through the curtains ignited his red hair, disheveled from sleep and wavy atop his head. The auburn color was striking against the pale white of the redhead's skin, a dusting of freckles covered over every inch of his milky complexion. And then his eyes - _Maker_ , his eyes - were a pale blue that matched the color of the fjords.

And now they were still watching Dorian with rapt attention, twinkling with amusement once Demetri took account of Dorian's speechlessness.

"Like what you see?" Dorian asked, forcing himself to avert his gaze away from those eyes to gain at least a bit composure. He gave a little stretch again, flexing his muscles until he heard Demetri laugh beside him at the show.

“Always, love,” Demetri replied warmly, sitting up as well before reaching for Dorian once more. He kissed him, deep and lazily, carding his fingers through Dorian’s already sleep-mussed hair. Dorian couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed at him for messing up his hair even further, however. The feeling of the Inquisitor’s short fingernails running softly along his scalp was far too pleasing for any negative emotion to arise.

“If you keep this up, amatus, you are certainly going to be late,” Dorian reminded after taking a breath, forcing himself to surface from the pleasure to come to his senses.

“So now you’re the practical one?” Demetri asked wryly, then sighed as he reached to the nightstand for his timepiece. “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am.” Dorian grinned cheekily as Demetri moved to the edge of the bed, stretched out his scarred and muscled back, and stood. Dorian watched as his amatus walked over to his dresser, frowning as he looked in it. He pulled on something simple, comfortable, and probably cotton before walking back over to retrieve a few papers on his nightstand that Dorian didn’t see the night before.

“Working late on paperwork again, are we?” Dorian asked, taking in satisfaction as Demetri froze, like a child caught in the act of something naughty. “I was wondering why you were so tired.”

Demetri winced. “I wasn’t working _that_ late. I just needed to get through a few of these before this morning. It’s not a big deal,” he added, taking note in how Dorian’s chastising expression didn’t change.

“When it takes nearly a minute just to rouse you from sleep, it tends to be a big deal. I had half a mind to believe you slipped into a coma or something,” Dorian sniped jokingly, softening a bit. He knew how difficult Demetri’s job was as the Inquisitor, and always tried to help when he could, but he knew that there were some things even _he_ couldn’t change. The Inquisitor’s endless workload was undoubtedly one of them.

Demetri chuckled and looked down at the documents, shuffling the papers as he skimmed over them quickly. He looked down at his timepiece again and frowned once more. Then he looked over to Dorian, still in bed, and walked over.

He kissed the mage once more, softly this time. “I’m really sorry I have to go,” he said, hopelessly apologetic about things he had no power over as always.

“It’s quite alright,” Dorian replied easily before reaching up to Demetri’s ear. “As long as you promise to come by later,” he whispered suggestively.

Demetri grinned. “It’s a date then,” he promised with an affirming nod. Then, with one last (but rather chaste) kiss, the Inquisitor took a final glance to his timepiece and headed down the stairs. Dorian still remained in bed until he could no longer hear the clicks from Demetri’s boots echoing up the stairs, much like he always did. Afterwards, he rolled back over to Demetri’s side of their shared bed, sharing a secret smile with himself as he breathed in his amatus’ scent still lingering in the sheets, and wondered when his life had gotten so domestic.


End file.
